


What Comes After

by thecaptainhedgehog (lyzeebyrd)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dreams and Nightmares, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Quest of Erebor, Romance, Very slight kid fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:00:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27952733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyzeebyrd/pseuds/thecaptainhedgehog
Summary: A year after the Reclamation of Erebor, Ori adjusts to his new life.
Relationships: Fíli/Ori (Tolkien)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26
Collections: Have A Happy Hobbit Holiday 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mydaline](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mydaline/gifts).



_The battle rages around him; his brothers fight at his back, but they are surrounded on all sides and the orcs just keep coming and coming and coming and Fili… They had been separated from the sons of Durin nearly as soon as they had entered the fray and Fili… Sweet Fili… He would never have left his uncle’s side, and where their king went, trouble followed. And so he kept fighting, desperate to see the smiling face of the heir of Durin once more._

_When the battle is won, and the dead are collected to be returned to the stone, his One is among them._

Ori shot up in bed. His chest heaved as he sought to catch his breath.

“Fili,” he panted into the too cool air of the room. Had he remembered to add wood to the fire. Of course not; he had worked late into the night in the library, tonight of all nights, and had collapsed into bed upon returning to his room.

He resigned himself, between the extinguished fire and his still irregular heartrate, to getting no more rest that night. He had thought the worst of the battle dreams were behind him, but it seemed as if the stress of the week was finally catching up to him.

He tried to light an oil lamp, but his hands would not stop shaking around his fire striker long enough to spark a flame. With a frustrated cry, he slammed the fire striker on his desk and blindly searched the floor for the shoes he knew he had kicked off just hours before. His stone sense was weaker than most dwarrow, but he found the shoes easily enough, slipped them on alongside a knit dressing gown of his own make, and set out down the corridor.

Following the battle, members of the Company had been gifted rooms adjacent to the Royal Wing, which were usually reserved for members of the King’s Council and other revered nobility. Dori had been ecstatic, honored, but these rooms were not the rooms Ori would have chosen for himself. His bed was too large, the ceilings too high, the room too spacious for a single dwarrow, and a scribe at that. Living alone, no one noticed the nights that he could not bear to come home to overwhelming quiet.

He was greeted with polite nods from the night duty guards upon entering the Royal Wing proper. Even at this hour, they recognized the Royal Scribe and did not question his presence. The door he sought opened with no resistance, as if the occupant had been expecting him.

In these rooms, the stone walls still glowed, lit by the dull roar of the fire that a servant had undoubtedly replenished before the room’s occupant had settled in for the night. The large receiving chamber led off to a short corridor and into a grand bedroom, which housed another glowing fire and the reason that Ori had come.

The light from the fire reflected off of the prince’s loose hair and the singular braid left in it. There, Ori’s bead glinted in the low light, draped inelegantly over the rising and falling shoulder of his snoring One. He let out the breath he had been holding since he had woken from his night terror. He approached the bed slowly, more than aware that he was not the only member of the company suffering from battle shock. Fili awoke with a startled grunt, and his deep blue eyes met Ori’s.

“Whuzzit, ghiv’shel?” he asked as he fought against his heavy eyelids, even as he threw the cover back, bidding Ori to join him.

“Got too warm,” Ori lied as he set his dressing gown over the back of a nearby chair and kicked off his shoes. “No one to hog the furs.”

Fili hummed in easy agreement and made room for Ori to climb into bed and lay against his chest. Ori complied easily. A year after the battle, it was still startling to trace his fingers across the deep-set scar in the middle of his beloved’s chest. It was a constant and stark reminder of how much he had almost lost.

“I think they can hear you over thinking in the Guild Halls, amralime,” Fili teased, his voice still deep from sleep. He stroked his fingers steadily down Ori’s back. “I am still here. What did I promise you?”

“That you would not leave me.” Ori’s voice quivered, though he had answered this question hundreds of times in the last year.

“And I have not. Nor will I.” Fili’s ministrations moved from stroking Ori’s back to playing with the only bead in his hair. “This right here. This marks you as mine. Just as my bead marks you as yours. How could I leave you when you still have but a courting braid in your hair? I should think to stay around past the marriage braids, at least. Nay, until your braids are gray and falling out, and then I shall forge them from copper, to match the hair that you have lost, and fasten them back in. And when that copper is rusted and old, only then may I even begin to think about leaving to wait for you in the Halls of our fathers. And I will wait, for we are One, Ori, but Mahal willing, that is long time yet.”

Ori clung to him tighter, and so Fili continued, “I take it you’ve been in the library all night, then? I told you not to work yourself to exhaustion. You need your rest for the morning.”

“I know,” Ori finally sighed. He had not cried, but he felt drained by the evening. He pulled the furs over them and tucked himself against Fili’s side. “But the cataloguing – “

“Is the job of your successor,” Fili reminded him.

“I know,” Ori sighed once more. “I just – “

“Can’t help it?” Fili teased. “You didn’t think that was much of an excuse when Kili and I relieved that stuffy old Firebeard of his trousers last month.”

“He was part of a visiting delegation!” Ori scolded.

“He called you common,” Fili grinned back. “As if Ori Silverpen could ever be common.”

Ori blushed at the honorific that Thorin had bestowed upon him following the coronation. “You know I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

“Oh?” Fili grinned and kissed the tip of Ori’s nose. “But then how else will everyone know that my husband-to-be is the Master Scribe that chronicled Thorin, King Under the Mountain’s Great Quest to Reclaim Our Birthright, or whatever they’re calling it these days?”

“I’m not sure how they could forget, with you and Dori practically shouting it from the ramparts,” Ori shot back.

“Speaking of one my favorite future brothers-in-law,” Fili laughed, “does he know that you’ve broken tradition by breaking into your betrothed rooms the night before your wedding?”

“No more than my favorite future mother-in-law,” Ori challenged. “In a few hours, these will be just as much my rooms as they are yours. So what difference does it make now? It is not as if we have kept to tradition to this point. Besides, it is not my head they will be after if they find me here.”

Fili gulped at the mention of his mother. “I am not sure which I should fear more,” he admitted. The wrath of either made him shudder in ill anticipation. 

“I do not think they will give you the opportunity to choose,” Ori teased.

“Hush you,” Fili grinned and nudged his shoulder. “Now sleep. We’ve a busy day ahead of us.”

* * *

The pair slept soundly, wrapped in one another’s arms. Before first light, Ori pressed a gentle kiss to a still sleeping Fili’s lips and sneaked back to his own rooms. It would not benefit anyone to have the propriety of their courtship questioned before the kingdom, regardless of circumstance.

By luck or by skill, Ori was back in his own bed before Dori entered his rooms to prepare him for the coming day. For it was this day, that before his king, before his people, and before Mahal himself he tied his life to Prince Fili, son of Dis, daughter of Thrain, heir of King Thorin II Oakenshield. When all was said and all was done, that night, he was finally able to climb into _their_ bed and sleep in his husband’s arms, free of worry of being caught or of battle or of waking to an eternally empty bed. That night, for the first time in a year, Prince Ori Silverpen, Consort Under the Mountain, slept happily and soundly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili's thoughts on Ori

_It had been Nori’s fault, really, with his talk of his adventures to the west. He had just returned home with the caravans after another six-month long trip. Fili and Kili had been in Dori’s care, as was usual when the Lady Dis was conducting business on her brother’s behalf. There were of the same age as Dori’s youngest brother, and as such, they were fast friends._

_It was the story of some pirates that Nori had met with on the coast. He regaled them with stories of the high seas and giant monsters coming out of the water. Dori was most unimpressed with Nori’s tales and had dragged them from the room by the beard, muttering all the while about things “inappropriate for impressionable young pebbles.”_

_It was a game inspired by those same pirates that really set things in motion._

_“Why do I gotta be the damsel in distress?” Ori whined._

_“Because I’m the pirate captain and Kili’s too little,” Fili explained once again, as if it were obvious. “Besides, you’re the prettiest, so you’ve gotta be the damsel in distress!”_

_“Then what’s Kili gonna be?” Ori scoffed, though a light blush stained his chubby cheeks._

_“A sea monster!” Fili exclaimed._

_“Sea mosster!” Kili agreed. He formed his hands into tiny claws and screamed a mighty, “Rawrrr!!!”_

_And so Ori agreed to be tie to the bedpost – “The mast Ori!” – in Kili and Fili’s shared bedroom. Kili guarded his “damsa in de west” by pacing around the room and hissing anytime he thought he saw motion from the doorway._

_When Fili did finally burst in, he made short work of his brother with a small wooden training sword that his uncle had crafted him for his nameday. The monster defeated, he untied Ori from the bedpost and proclaimed his victory in the form of a kiss to Ori’s cheek._

_“What was that for?” Ori stammered, his face a ruddy red._

_“I’m the pirate captain!” Fili explained like it was obvious. “The pirate captain always kisses the damsel when he saves him and then they get married. So I guess I gotta braid your hair too.”_

_“Oh,” Ori nodded. Fili’s explanation made perfect sense._

_And so Dori walked into a room of Kili rolling on the floor groaning in the way that a small child might think a slain monster would sound and Fili braiding what could possibly be mistaken for a braid of Durin into sweet Ori’s hair._

_This had earned him a stern talking-to from his uncle._

_“You can not braid the hair of any that is not family, your consort, or your intended,” Thorin lectured._

_“But Ori_ is _going to be my consort,” Fili argued. “I’m gonna marry him!”_

_“Fili, you are twenty years old and a prince,” Thorin explained calmly. “You cannot braid Ori’s hair, even if it is to play pretend.”_

_Fili’s eyes filled with hurt tears as he exclaimed, “But it’s nor pretend! I’m gonna marry Ori! For real, not for pretend!”_

_As Fili fled the room, Thorin groaned and leaned his head against his desk._

* * *

Fili smiled happily at his own reflection, basking in the happy memory as he braided his own hair, hopefully for the last time. After this day, his wedding day, his Ori, his husband, would have the duty of meticulously braiding his hair each morning, as Fili would now be responsible for braiding Ori’s.

Ori had been gone by the time he had awoken, but he was happy nonetheless, for he knew that he would not wake again to a cold bed. He would not have to wait for his beloved to seek him out for comfort; he would forevermore be by his side, always ready to offer it without hesitation.

Though he knew Ori would always prefer his library and his writing, by tonight, he would Prince Consort, equal to Fili in status and power, and no dwarf save Thorin could ever look down upon him again. Back in Ered Luin, it had been made clear to him that he would be expected to marry for political gain, for the good of their people. He would never be able to marry his love, for love. And Fili was a good prince. He knew what their situation was, and he had accepted his duty. What good would it do to marry for love If the union would doom his intended to destitution and starvation? The Reclamation had changed his fortunes in more ways than one.

After tonight, they would be One in the eyes of Mahal and of their people. It was worth the slew of near-death experiences (and one death-adjacent experience) on the Quest if it meant he could hold Ori in his arms for the rest of their lives, and Mahal willing, in the Halls of their Fathers.

The reflections of Thorin and Dis appeared behind him in the mirror.

“It is time.”

Fili’s heart soared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this second chapter was posted late, and I apologize for that. I went back and forth with whether or not it should be included, but I really enjoy Fili's perspective. I hope you enjoy, and once again, Happy Hobbit Holidays!

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was the most fun I've had in quite a while, and it was a wonderful return to writing fic. I'm steadily falling back in love with Ori and Fili and I hope to revisit this 'verse sometime soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Happy Holidays!


End file.
